Smirk in the Face of Death
by MarvellouslyWondrous
Summary: And at the end of the day, the one to confront him about it, was probably the one that cared the least.


Hey guys!

Not exactly the Jason fic I was planning on, but I just flipped through the Sea of Monsters and little ideas started jumping round my brain going 'Pick me! Pick me!'. I picked, and Clarisse appeared.

It's just a drabble of sorts really.

Disclaimer: Hey wait! I DO own Per... yeah right.

My Jason fic will be up soon, I hope, when I can find time and shove away all the other pesky, interfering ideas.

Hope you enjoy! x

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"So, if you die, you die? Very martyr-ish of you Jackson."

Percy huffed out a breath and crossed his arms, mood turning even fouler at the annoyingly familiar voice of his camp tormentor. He had perched himself on a large rock down the shore of the beach – further down than campers usually travelled. Then again, he considered, not many campers had as much of an interest in the beach as he did. He was pulled away from his ponderings as knuckles rapped at his head sharply, he waved her away, annoyed.

"Hey! Do you mind? I'm busy wallowing in self-pity."

Clarisse cracked a smug grin and sat next to him, facing him rather than the sea. Percy smirked a little, silently revelling in the fact that the Ares kids didn't like the sea, just out of principal (just because he'd beaten their dad, the God of War when he was twelve... you'd think they'd get over stuff like that). Remembering that kind of made her hitting his head less annoying. Kind of.

"There we go Seaweed Brain. Back to the sarcastic little punk we all know and... well know."

He spared her a withering, sarcastic smile – annoyed at the insult and the name. There was only one person who was allowed to call him that nowadays.

"Don't call me that."

"Oh yeah, sorry Prissy, forgot only your lady love was afforded the privilege."

He scowled, leaning back on the rock, feeling justifiably huffy. First he finds out his death is prophesised and now he had a girl calling him Prissy. Life was just too good to him.

"What do you want Clarisse?"

She shrugged, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable, he noticed. Whatever, he thought, let her feel uncomfortable. She wouldn't be the only one. He felt a little hurt by this; after the scene in the council meeting, many of the campers, many of his friends had struggled to meet his eyes. And if they did, they either looked sympathetic or like they were wondering what flowers to put on his grave.

"Just came to have one of our heartfelt chats."

Percy eyed her suspiciously.

"If those were 'heartfelt chats', then my 'chats' with Luke must be downright friendly."

She snorted and thugged him hard in the arm; he assumed this was some weird friendly ritual for her. For him it just hurt like heck.

"Har, har Prissy, you're on top form tonight."

He started a little at that; she didn't sound sarcastic, so much as... fond? Well, that's a new one. He spared her a sarcastic smile,

"What can I say, imminent death does that to me."

Clarisse seemed to freeze a little out of the corner of his eye, turning to stare at him with a gaze so intense, and so unlike any look she'd given him before, he started to worry. Was she going to kill him before Kronos got the chance?

"Why do you do that?"

He blinked, confused.

"Do what?"

She narrowed her eyes and he shrank back a little. Whilst he had never been scared of her per say, he had learned enough in the last few years to be wary of annoyed tough girls.

"You smile, even though you've got nothing to smile about."

He blanched a little, feeling his heart sink into his stomach. He swallowed and sent her a withering glare.

"Gee, thanks for reminding me, now please excuse me while I get back to looking as miserable as my situation."

He knew he looking positively huffy, arms crossed, slumped and scowling, but he couldn't really care right now. Especially when Clarisse snorted again mockingly.

"Oh har, har Jackson. You know what I mean."

He looked at her sharply, remembering the looks on the other campers faces, like he'd already died. Chiron's deep, ancient frown and the acceptance in his eyes. He remembered the horror on Annabeth's face as he declared that he was okay with dying. He huffed a little, as if anyone was ready for that. Looking at Clarisse' face, he didn't see horror or sadness or regret. He saw curiosity.

And even though he felt it kind of showed a disinterest in whether he lived or died (which, hey, he'd come to expect from her) it was the only look so far that didn't make him want to crawl away and start digging his own grave. Percy looked back to the horizon, wondering absently how his dad felt about all this. Sighing, he tried to answer in a weary voice,

"I dunno Clarisse, I'm not smiling because I'm all 'hey, I'm super happy to lay down my life for my friends!' because seriously, I'm not."

She didn't say anything and he considered that this may be the first time she'd ever taken an interest in what he had to say.

"I guess... I guess I try and look at _why_ I'm dying. It makes me feel better, knowing that I've got people worth dying for."

He looked to see if this answer was acceptable and she looked back at him, brows furrowed in contemplation.

"I don't get it."

"Well, I suppose it sucks that I'm gonna die,"

She sent him a look that said 'gee, you think?'

"but at the same time, I was lucky enough to have people worth dying for."

They sat in silence for a while after that. Percy actually felt better; the panic he felt ever time he remembered this unfortunate dying business was lessened after his explanation. Clarisse had sat still and silent for longer than he'd ever seen and he was suddenly struck with the notion that maybe... maybe this was Clarisse's way of asking for advice.

He was torn away from his thoughts when she stood sharply and leaned over to roughly ruffle his hair.

"Don't die without a fight Jackson, otherwise you'll be more pathetic than you already are."

Shocked at the almost fond gesture and her words; he stared at her retreating back.

He sat on his rock, silent and shocked, leaning back to run a hand through his hair. Don't die without a fight? He felt a little flame of something warm up his heart. He smiled, her words made him think – who said he had to just lay down and take it huh? The stupid prophesy didn't say that he'd just sit back and let Kronos 'reap his soul' or whatever!

Well, he smirked, that was settled. Even if the fates and the universe wanted his soul reaping, that didn't mean he couldn't get in one last big smack in the face of evil.

The thought cheered him up slightly as he silently vowed to go down kicking and screaming. He was only slightly cheered though as he remembered the mourning faces of his friends.

Percy sighed, at the end of the day, he really didn't want to be the unlucky shmuk the universe insisted he was.


End file.
